Untitled
by viciousmonster
Summary: (Spoilers up to S8.) 26 year old Dean Winchester tries to get his brother Sam (22.) back on the hunt, but Sam has other plans. He wants to live a normal life, and leave his old one behind. With that being said, Dean tries to replace his brother with someone else. No one other than Castiel.


It was another routine day, Sam Winchester attending classes at Stanford University, working adamantly at a coffee shop downtown, and studying in his spare time. Always returning home late. He lived about five miles away from school, and another two from his work, so naturally Sam biked everywhere. Jessica Moore, Sam's girlfriend of two years, lived with him in his small run down one bedroom apartment. It was nothing fancy but it had the bare necessities which was more than enough. In Sam's eyes, they were living the dream. He finally had a place to call home. Another typical thursday went by and as usual Sam arrived home around 11:30pm. Sam was completely drained as he was plodding his way to the apartment. He locked his crimson bike up before making his way to the door.

"Thank god, I'm on the ground floor." he breathed.

Once he reached the off-white door that read 221, he dug into his pocket, grabbing his keys. Reaching out to the silver knob with one hand, and clicking the lock open with the other. He pushed through the door, kicking it shut behind him. The odor of various coffees still resonating off the leaf green apron that hung around his neck, captivating the room. There was a faint aroma still lingering behind that. Sam wanted to think of his mother's cooking, but he was too young to remember.

_It was probably something Jess had made for dinner_.

Sam dragged his body a few feet over to the kitchen table where he shoved his shoes off almost immediately. He tossed the apron off to the side, and hung it over the flimsy wooden chair. Adjusting his chocolate locks as he looked around, then eyeing the russet colored stains on his white button down shirt. He brushed his fingertips on his temples and coughed lightly. Sam took a few steps to the side, his feet feeling heavey as his hand met the sand colored wall. His fingers were frisking the wall awkwardly until he finally found the light switch. Flicking the light on but nothing happened. In frustration he flicked it up and down several times before his tired eyes realized that there was no electricity.

"Didn't pay the electric bill again I guess."

He let out a long sigh while he trudged to the bedroom. Sam unbuttoned his shirt coyly and kicked off his worn jeans to the ground, and then slide into the cool blue sheets next to Jessica. She was already knocked out though. Sam ran his calloused hand gently across her shoulder blade and mimicked the action with his lips kissing it. His fingertips run through her luscious blonde locks for a moment, playing with her hair. She mumbled something, then turned over. His lips form a half smile, and in less than 5 minutes he's out as well. Caressing her body against his. A few hours later, they are both still passed out on the bed when there's a faint tapping on the door. It creaks open, stiring Sam. Initially he would of dismissed it since he's heard plenty noises before. It wasn't the best neighborhood after all, and most the time it ended up being his overactive imagination. Something told him to get up this time though, so he did. Sam soundlessly uncovered himself and arose. He looked over at Jess while he searched the nightstand top drawer for his M1911 pistol. He kept it stashed under useless junk so it was easily hidden, but just as easily accesaible just in case. He held the metallic weapon in his hand, and slowly maneuvered through the apartment, checking every corner. Darkness swallowed the room making it almost impossible to see anything. A million thoughts started racing through his mind, it could be anyone, more importantly _anything. _

_But why would anything track me down now? I'ts been 3 years- 3 whole damn years I've been out. Why would anything come after me now? _

Sam's imagination has always played tricks on him but it was going off the charts right now. He could feel a presence in the room and he couldn't shake it. He glanced back again at Jess, making sure she was still safe; sleeping. She was. That calmed him for about second, because right when he turned back around, there was a figure standing there. A figure of a man. It was too ill-lighted to make out who, or what it was. There was no time to react, and in an instant Sam was disarmed, and immobilized. The robust sound of the clip from his gun colliding with the little glass table made a sharp clang that echoed off the walls. Sam was fidgeting and fighting his way out of the foreign hold, but he couldn't break free. He struggled to remain silent so he wouldn't wake Jess. After a few minutes of him struggling, the unknown individual starting laughing. It was oddly familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it. The tight grasp had loosened moments later and the voice said:

"Sammy, is that anyway to greet your brother?" he chuckled.

"Dean?!" Sam yelled in a hushed tone. "What the hell are you doing here?" Sam's eyes filled with rage.

Dean ignored him, as he strolled over to the fridge. Shifting effortlessly through the living room. You could hardly even notice anyone else was there. The moonlight from the undersized window was the only light source and it soley allowed Dean's profile to show. He fiddled in the cooler for a minute or two and snagged a beer in the back. Cracking it open with his teeth and spitting the cap out onto the cluttered counter. Smiling he turned his attention back to his brother again. Sam wide-eyed and utterly confused, standing there with his mouth ajar.


End file.
